


you pass me a note

by thesarcasticone



Series: all i've ever known [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Feelings, Pre-Canon, This is a series, friends - Freeform, it got out of my hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesarcasticone/pseuds/thesarcasticone
Summary: Lady Brienne of Tarth,If the world accepts fate as justice, insults as flattery and the humiliation of the weak as honor; then who are we to dictate a woman can’t wield a proper sword? I most definitely do not agree with the thought of having you subjected to the perils of becoming a simple wife and being stripped from becoming as fine a swordsman as any the realm has ever seen. Accept this offering as a nameday gift, from a servant of the realm to a future ally.Or: Jaime gets angry and finds himself thinking about his recent travels through the Stormlands. He gets and idea, a present is sent and correspondance between two kindered souls begins.





	you pass me a note

**Author's Note:**

> Next part of the experiment!!! Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos or bookmarked or has left a comment on any of the previous installments, they mean the world. Kudos back to you all!
> 
> Fun little fact about this one: I wasn't supposed to write this, it was never in my original plan. But the muse hits at random times and with random things. At first I was just going to write one quick scene and the first letter, but then I ended up writing - a whole lot more. 
> 
> Anyway, on with the 'verse! This takes place about 2 or 3 months after the last one and unlike the previous stories, takes us through about 2 years of their lives.
> 
> As always, mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Jaime was angry, he was angry at the farce of it all. Trials, gods, justice. Futile words uttered by less than worthy men who believed themselves to have an absolute right of power. 

The gods did not show mercy, just as they did not show wrath or any other condemned emotion. Men were easily tricked and easily bought. Justice- justice held no ground in King’s Landing -it never had. Not when Aerys had sat the throne, and not now with Robert’s quick temper and inclination towards allowing the most important of trials to be let to  _ chance _ . 

The lad had been five-and-ten, a mere stable boy who had fancied himself ready to take on the world. Loyal past the point of reason, the boy had proudly risen to defend his Lord and friend against the accusations of rape and murder which had been made against him. 

He should have been given a fair trial, as the laws of men and gods decreed. It should have been the duty of the small council to see those laws and regulations triumphed over the whims and amusements of a fickle King; to see that such a ritualistic and ancestral affair would always be upheld with honor and honesty.

But King Robert had roared with laughter and had vehemently declared the boy an amusement. His diligent small council had remained as silent as if there had been nothing wrong about condemning an innocent boy to die for his Lord’s alleged follies. Cersei herself had merely stared ahead, a quirk of a smile on her lips, green eyes finding a somewhat twisted amusement in having been privileged to witness the embarrassment of the young lad in front of the entire court. 

No one had risen a finger, not even an eyebrow. Not a single scoff or misgiven sigh had been heard as the young man -still a mere  _ boy _ , had been escorted to face the Crown's chosen champion, Ser Mandon Moore. 

Once more Jaime had been reminded of the honor, of the oaths, of the  _ lie _ of it all. Oh that the words of chivalry and honor could  _ mean _ something to him again, but they felt as soiled as his white cloak had gotten during that fateful event when his sword had found Aerys’ back and throat. What did it mean to be honorable and dutiful when you had to  _ murder _ a green boy who possessed no formal sword training? Where was the honor in being a Knight if all you ever did was  _ stand _ and watch as the world continued to erratically spin around you, and you could do nothing to prevent the unfairness of it all? 

As Jaime exited the constricting walls of the Red Keep, his travels through the Stormlands came unbidden to the front of his troubled mind. He would have never thought he would one day come to find himself relishing the memories of having left his sister’s side for a full three months; but thoughts of his recent travels carried the liberating feeling of an open road and clear summer skies. 

Jaime was firm in the belief that he belonged by Cersei’s side just as much as he belonged out in the open road, tasting fresh air and smelling fresh dew. 

There was a truth in the steady rise of a hill, the flowing current of a river, the treacherous waters of the sea. Truth which no longer could ever be embodied in the face and essence of men. 

King’s Landing was a pit of poverty and malnourishment, while the Red Keep stunk of ploys and deceit. The last honest eyes which Jaime had the fortune of having met, had been those of a plucky young maiden with a scowl on her face and hesitancy in her gait. 

Brienne of Tarth. The Lady of the Sapphire Isle. Barely four-and-ten now, and most likely soon to be betrothed to a snivelling young Lordling or Knight of lesser rank. 

Odly, Jaime found himself hoping the weary trials of life would not end up diminishing the young Lady’s spiteful nature, or the brightness of her eyes. At least one person in Westeros deserved to preserve their innocence, and Jaime figured the maid was as good a candidate as any other. 

_ Better than most, even.  _

Young, stubborn and awkward; a misfit if Jaime had ever known one -and he had Tyrion for a brother. She was a kind reminder of his own lost childish wonderment and wishfulness; of his own once fierce determination to being good and obedient and the heir his father had always wanted him to become, all while constantly fighting against his given gift of being a natural born swordsman. 

Those were the peculiar thoughts which eventually managed to bring Jaime down from the raging storm which had festered within him upon having had to bear witness to the absurdity of a trial by combat which had occurred that morning. Those were the persistent thoughts which refused to dissipate from the front of his mind as he continued his walk around the Keep’s grounds, across the training yard. Thoughts which, when he found himself casually conversing with the royal armourer, produced the most idiotic and riddiculous of notions to spring within him. 

With a cat like smirk, he gave the armourer a proposal which he hoped would not sound as ludicrous as he presumed it did. 

_ Lady Brienne of Tarth,  _

_ If the world accepts fate as justice, insults as flattery and the humiliation of the weak as honor; then who are we to dictate a woman can’t wield a proper sword? I most definitely do not agree with the thought of having you subjected to the perils of becoming a simple wife and being stripped from becoming as fine a swordsman as any the realm has ever seen. Accept this offering as a nameday gift, from a servant of the realm to a future ally.  _

_ I send my regards to your father and hope the Evenstar is in good health. I vehemently stand by my earlier admittance of looking forward to one day meeting you in the training yard, my Lady. When the day comes, I hope you grant me the boon of it being with you wielding the blade I send with this ill-written letter.  _

_ Your friend, Ser Jaime Lannister. _

The sword glistened as the sunlight hit the rubies and sapphires which graced its hilt, as golden as his family’s legacy. Whatever had prompted the Knight to have had the sword commissioned for Brienne as a nameday present, went beyond both Brienne’s and Selwyn’s level of comprehension. 

Lord Selwyn had wearily looked at his daughter as she had read the raven, the gifted blade firmly clasped in her left hand, as if she were afraid of it disappearing if she were to release it. 

It was neither common, nor proper, but the Knight had sent the Lady a gift. A nameday present which had Septa Roelle screeching and swiftly planning on getting a raven sent to the Lord of Casterly Rock demanding an answer for his son’s impertinent behavior. 

Selwyn and Brienne could only stare at the blade, admiring the elegant craftsmanship of such a strong and beautiful weapon. 

“Are you certain he never inquired to know more about you, my dear? Or about the island?” Lord Selwyn asked his daughter; already so enraptured and enamoured by the glistening blade, Selwyn knew the Knight had already gained the girl’s favor, even if she hadn’t fully realized it herself. 

“No.” Was all she could utter, fingers flexing over the hilt of the sword  _ -her _ sword. “You’re not going to make me give it up, will you? It’s been gifted to me.” Her voice was firm, but carried all the weariness Selwyn knew his daughter to possess. 

“You can’t be serious, child. You are aware of the repercussions accepting a man’s gift will have on your reputation.”

Brienne was well aware of her unfortunate circumstances, but she found she currently did not have the energy or will to grant her doubts and insecurities a place within herself. She had been gifted a sword. A bright and beautiful blade, with shimmering sapphires and rubies adorning a golden hilt which she desperately wished to carry over to the yard to begin training with. 

“She’ll keep the blade, if she wishes.”

“My Lord.”

“The girl has suffered enough these past few months; let her have this.”

“She’s no longer a child, playing at -”

“I don’t  _ play _ .” Brienne found herself spitting out, a sudden and bright burst of indignation surging within her. “I train, and I’m  _ good _ ; even better than most of the boys. You can question Ser Goodwin on the matter.”

Brienne had never seen her Septa growl at her father before. As the woman scowled, the image startled the young Lady, but not once did she ever let go of her sword. 

She wrote back with both a conflicted and happy heart. 

_ Ser Jaime Lannister,  _

_ You have my most sincere gratitude, Ser. The blade is as magnificent as the ones currently hanging at Evenfall’s armoury and I fear perhaps not worthy of my ownership. It was diligent of you to have remembered a trifle fact such as my nameday, and for it you have my gratitude as well. _

_ As for your peculiar assumption on my having already gotten betrothed or worse -have already become a wife, I am obliged to report such event will not be occurring in any short amount of time. I’ve already been betrothed twice in my life and twice have those commitments been dismantled. My father has agreed to spare me the pain of a third attempt for at least the next six months; though I must confess the thought of becoming someone’s wife does fill me with a nauseating sickness.  _

_ I shall bother you no longer with the ails of a silly girl, but had only wished to clarify any misgivings or erroneous presumptions in regards to the intention of your generous gift. I am still to remain unwed until my father finds a more willing suitor, or is offered a better prospect.  _

_ In the meantime I have my newly forged weapon to keep me and the entire household staff entertained.  _

_ It truly is a glorious blade, one which I find myself not deserving off, but can’t bear to part from now that I've held it in my hands.  _

_ I am forever in your debt, Ser.  _

_ It would be an honor to ever have the privilege of meeting you in an open field.  _

_ Sincerely, Lady Brienne of Tarth _

The second raven had not been expected, and had come mere days after she had sent her own reply. Dreading whichever comment her Septa would provide, and weary of being subjected to her father’s unnerving stares, Brienne chose to not share the contents of his second raven with anyone but her trusting mare. 

_ Lady Brienne,  _

_ There is no debt to be had. Although if your honorable character will not allow you to forgone it, consider the continuation of your avid training to be that with which it could be repaid. The sword was crafted for it to be used, not to be displayed up on a wall.  _

_ I am saddened to hear of your fruitless betrothals if only for your father’s sake, but not for your own. I’ve been witness to way too many arranged matches ending in sorrow and pain for me to honestly bestow my goodwill upon any who venture into such events. _

_ I do hope my words don’t startle or insult you, they are merely the ramblings of an old Knight who has found himself missing the days when honor and justice made sense to him.  _

_ You have no idea of the luck you possess for having successfully avoided court, my Lady.  _

_ Wishing you in good health.  _

_ Your friend, Ser Jaime Lannister.  _

He had never thought he would ever receive word from the Lady again. His final raven had been written in haste and melancholy, and he had not considered the consequences or the reaction the Lady would present to reading about his own ails and predicaments. 

He had penned such hasty words, right after his sweet sister had promptly shut her chamber's doors in his face, still feeling vastly resentful and irritated because of his previous impulsive and reckless acquisition. 

Jaime had felt uneasy of the fact he couldn’t seem to decide whether it was contempt or serenity that which he had found himself feeling. 

Nevertheless, about two weeks after his last raven had been sent, another returned. 

_ Dear Ser,  _

_ I sincerely hope you have meant the denotation of the word friend which you have been quick to employ; one which has been used not once, but twice in your letters. I seem to find myself in need of one, and mayhaps your wisdom could help with the inquires which have surged within me as of late.  _

_ I must admit it has been hard to honor my pledge to repay your graciousness by continuously training with my gifted blade. My hours have never been my own to organize and dictate, and ever since your first raven’s arrival on Tarth, my Septa has made it her life’s work to try and diminish my free hours -hours which I would have normally used to ride and train. I am afraid the debt will take a lengthy amount of time to be completely repaid. I must also admit you were right, it is my honorable upbringing which has got me sullen about such a fact.  _

_ But my inquires do not have anything to do with broken pledges or vows, but with that of the history of our Kingdom and the dreadful topic of inheritance. _

_ I have been called my father’s heir for almost my entire life, ever since my brother’s untimely death when he had been only eight and I four. For several days I’ve been privy to the whispers and comments which have been circling around Evenfall; statements which imply that a woman cannot be fit to inherit Evenfall Hall or the title of Evenstar, least of all an unmarried woman.  _

_ I must also admit your words have haunted me for the entire fortnight since I first read them. I had always been wary of the concept of marriage, even before knowing that I would have to be subjected to an arranged one. Not to mention I do dread the thought of a husband who will not tolerate my love for wielding a blade.  _

_ Is there not a way for me to inherit Evenfall without having to subject myself to such pains?  _

_ I find it rather incredulous to realize I have written more words to you than I have ever uttered in person. I find there is a comfort in being granted with time to think on ones words before plainfully expressing them. I hope my childish ramblings do not bore you as they have my bedmate.  _

_ Do not feel obliged to reply, for I myself am not sure if I want an answer.  _

_ Nevertheless, I do hope this letter finds you well and that you soon find the answers you seek regarding honor and justice. King’s Landing is not the entire realm, not even the entire world. I am sure those values still uphold their original intent somewhere, or with someone.  _

_ Your friend, Lady Brienne of Tarth  _

\--------

_ Dear Lady Brienne,  _

_ An odd question to receive, one surely better suited for a Septa or whoever is currently in charge of instructing you on our histories and politics. Of course having met the woman, I can comprehend your need to divert for information elsewhere.  _

_ I am honored and bewildered at having given the impression I know of such notions of inheritance and law. I fear, my Lady; I am as knowledgeable in that area as you seem to be.  _

_ A question far better suited for my sweet sister to give an answer to. I have tried to relay your inquiry to her but must confess I have not been successful in gaining a private audience with her Grace.  _

_ I once told you my sister would so hate you, if only because she would envy you. I fear my empty words might not have been so empty after all. Although I am certain my sister does not harbor any sincere feelings of hatred towards you or your house, I am certain she does not favor my small endeavor of providing you with your own blade. I do repeat this condition has sprung from misplaced envy, so trust me when I say you haven’t done anything wrong; except for mayhaps having been born in this constricting society. You see, those are my sister’s words, not mine own. For it is she the one who is ever pestering me about the unfairness of the world and its unjust treatment of women.  _

_ As for your concern regarding your debt, fear not. There was no given timeframe for it to be fulfilled; so long as you train, consider it paid.  _

_ Be in the knowledge, my Lady; that I do not write what I don’t mean. I was- am tired of the superfluous pleasantries court relishes in. I am a Knight, Lady Brienne; I had never intended to stay still for so long. One chooses his deeds with care and yet sometimes it doesn't turn up the way you wanted them to. Which is why I stand by my previous statement of aborring the idea of an arranged marriage, and my insistence of calling myself a friend to you. We have shared a dance, after all.  _

_ My advice would be to try and converse with your father on the matter; if not, I am sure there must be a written law concerning such affairs somewhere along the myriad of books we keep at Casterly Rock. I will write to my brother, ask him about your quarry and hope he can provide us both with a prompt answer. You seem to have sparked some questions of my own.  _

_ Don’t worry, I will not triffle you with Lannister troubles.  _

_ Keep fighting for your right to train, and don’t lose hope you’ll one day find a Lordling to your liking whom  _ _ you _ _ could propose marriage to. If you’re already breaking the norms of society, my Lady; you should not stop at just donning breeches.  _

_ Your friend, Ser Jaime.  _

_ \--------- _

_ Dear Ser,  _

_ Thank you for answering to the ramblings of a desperate girl. Know your friendship and encouragement is appreciated and reciprocated.  _

_ Until you hear from your brother (Lord Tyrion Lannister, is he not? His fame has even reached the Stormlands, with a reputation of his being one of the most literate young Lords).  _

_ Your friend, Lady Brienne. _

_ \---------- _

_ Dear Lady Brienne, _

_ I am sorry for not writing earlier, but the world does have a tendency to sometimes engulf you in a sort of storm which you suddenly find yourself not being able to get proficiently out of without the help of someone.  _

_ My brother did write to me with our answer. And as for your inquiries regarding him, which even though weren’t written down, I could more or less decipher. I do not know about being one of the most literate Lords of the realm, but he is certainly the smartest and most stubborn man I've ever known. He’s a dwarf, graciously called The Imp by most people -though I have an inkling to think you would not care for such denouncements. So he got it inside his head to try and become the best at that which came the easiest to him; reading was the feat and reading is what he has been doing for most of his short life.  _

_ You  _ _ will _ _ inherit Evenfall Hall, there is no need to worry upon the matter. It is known, however, that a female who inherits a title or property is expected to promptly marry for the sole purpose of being able to provide the House with a male heir as soon as it can be possible; so as soon as the boy becomes a man grown he can be granted both the titles and lands and successfully have both returned to the possession of a male. So yes, you are the Evenstar’s heir, but there is a viable reason for your Septa’s and father’s concern in regards to your impending betrothal, which I have been informed has not yet occurred.  _

_ You find me hoping you have encountered that young Lording I mentioned in my previous letter and are currently planning on secretly eloping, so that you don’t have to end up being one of the many ladies who have been traded off like cattle in order to gain some sort of favor or higher position of power. It is a dreadful thing to think of. You have shown to possess more spirit than any other person I have met during the last eleven years.  _

_ So, please grant me the boon of answering my raven with one of your own, if just to confirm or deny my current imaginings which I must admit have been recently brought to mind by her Grace herself. She took an evening to remind me of having once allowed our father to sell her off in a similar manner; but there hadn’t been anything I, or anyone, could have done.  _

_ I had to obey and diligently watch as my twin got offered and married to a boastful King who quickly succumbed to the thrill and comfort of power and the thrills and passions of whores. I may have a chance to spare you of a similar fate and with it save my own conscience in the process.  _

_ Still your friend and servant, Ser Jaime. _

_ \-------- _

_ Dear Ser,  _

_ I would be lying if I didn’t mention your words have caused me a certain distress. The tumultuous marriage of our King and Queen is no hidden secret; but to have been trusted with the knowledge of said rumors' confirmation, it was overwhelming and disconcerting. Nevertheless I feel humbled at having been trusted with your words.  _

_ For the favor you did me in asking your brother for help, I thank you. It does bring me a certain respite, to know my futile attempts of betrothals will not be a hindrance to my inheriting my family’s ancestral home and title. My fear has been that of not being able to inherit unless I obtained a husband. I am glad to have learned I can inherit and postpone marriage until I or my father find a suitable match.  _

_ In regards to your other pressing concern, no; I have not formed any plans to elope with any boys or men. I hardly ever leave Evenfall as it is, and the only men in my acquaintance have all already been beaten to the ground by my hand at some point in their lives.  _

_ I am at the mercy of the ships and Lords and Knights who make port here on Tarth and are granted an audience with my father and myself. Most of the men squirm at the mere sight of me. I continue to grow, and are in current danger of surpassing the tallest of men currently training under Ser Goodwin. He is a man of seven and ten who likes to constantly remind me of my freakish form and ungraceful face.  _

_ Even if there is little to no hope of my ever finding that young Lord or Knight you oddly seem eager for me to meet, please, do not hold any of my misgivings over your head or reason. You have done more for me than most people I have ever met. You have treated me with the same respect and validation you would any other. You are a good man, Ser. Regardless of your branding as a dishonorable Knight, you have proven to be a dutiful friend and honest man. You have never lied to soften the reality around me, but have made me consider the hardships and troubles of life far beyond what my mirror can offer.  _

_ Do not fret for my future. If I am to be married it will come to pass and it will occur as it must. Know, at least, that I will not be escorted to the Sept blissfully ignorant of the situation, but with a heavy heart and a proud face. My own heart still aches and wishes for the match to be one made for love and respect, but duty and honor compel me to accept whatever and whoever I must, if only to serve my purpose as heir. I am my father’s daughter and will suffer through whatever I have to, to ensure my family’s continued legacy.  _

_ Please, do not worry. Not on my account.  _

_ Your gracious friend, Lady Brienne.  _

_ \------- _

_ Dear Brienne,  _

_ Don’t ever refer to yourself as freakish again. _

_ Sincerely, Jaime. _

_ \------- _

_ Dear Jaime, _

_ I am sorry if my curt words offended you. They are true, whether I admit them or not. You’ve never been anything but crudely honest with me. Grant me the opportunity of believing my presumptions of you still honoring your vow of honesty.  _

_ Yours, Brienne. _

_ \------- _

_ Dear Brienne,  _

_ Although I do admit to not having ever purposely lied to you, it would also be a deception to allow you to continue thinking of me as an honest and just man.  _

_ Although I try to withhold the vows I once made, even after breaking one of the most sacred ones; I will be the first to admit I find I can't keep them all -try as I might.  _

_ I did once inform you of the brutality and absurdity the world can come to, and the truth of trying to fully commit to ones given vows.  _

_ Your words did not offend me, my Lady; but they did offend  _ _ you _ _ , which I presume it to be an even worse predicament.  _

_ Yours, Jaime _

_ \------ _

For the next couple of months, the ravens ceased.

It had been odd enough for Jaime to admit to having genuinely developed a friendship with the young maid. It became even stranger when he came to the realization he actually found himself missing reading her words, almost as much as he missed getting to write his own to her. He had never had a trusting relationship with anyone outside of his own family before. Not one where both parties genuinely cared for the other’s concerns and qualms. 

He had been in the middle of composing a lengthy letter of his own; one where for some unexplainable reason the words Aerys and wildfire had poured from his mind and had managed to end up written on the page, when a raven from Tarth arrived. His sister couldn't help but sneer at him from across the table where they had been breaking their fast that morning alongside their youngest brother, fresh off from Casterly and visiting his older siblings in the capitol. 

_ Dear Ser,  _

_ It’s been some time, but in my humiliation I have found that there is only one other person in the kingdom who has been privy to the conundrums of my mind and life apart from my own father. Oddly enough, that person appears to be you, Ser.  _

_ Forgive any lack of courtesy or propriety, but my mind feels foggy and slower than it usually is. I find myself blaming the dreamwine Septa Roelle has somehow convinced me to drink. I am still adamant on my suspicions she wished to poison me with it, but my father tells me that the thought is complete folly for the woman does care for me in her own twisted way. Of it being twisted, I have no doubt.  _

_ I write this ill-written and ill-timed letter to promptly inform you of my third betrothal, and its subsequent failure.  _

_ As I had once written, there was little hope of me ever finding a suitable match on my own, and it is my duty to marry -regardless of whether I am fit to inherit Evenfall Hall on my own or not.  _

_ The pressing concern as of late has been my ability to produce an heir. Our maester has graciously informed my father that he doubts a woman with my  _ _ form _ _ and complexion will remain fertile for long, and thus it has become the reason for the haste in finding me a match.  _

_ The third one was to a Knight. An old Knight. Five and sixty in age and with such a grunting and offensive manner, I finally achieved all of which my Septa had always been afraid I would one day become. I found myself encountering the courage to break every courtesy and manners which I have ever been taught. The feat was one which I found myself thinking you would have probably found amusing. _

_ It didn’t amuse me. Or my father. Or my Septa.  _

_ But the man had threatened to chasite me into becoming a proper woman. I stubbornly replied to only be willful to accept such treatment from a man who could best me in battle.  _

_ You will be pleased to know he did not. And though it was satisfying to have caused two broken ribs and a broken collarbone, the look upon my father’s face was enough to end my bout of satisfaction.  _

_ I have now made a promise in front of Evenfall Hall; a promise which thanks to your gifted blade and the persistence of Ser Goodwin, is looking to be one difficult to overcome. My fighting skills have grown almost as much as my form and height.  _

_ I fear I have become a burden to my father and to Tarth. I had but one obligation and purpose, and was too stubborn to embrace it as it became a woman of my stature. The honor I should have been able to provide my house and my stead has been lost. I have claimed to be brave, but can not abide the thought of a life confined to laces and dresses. If only I were able to become a Knight of the realm, bring honor and glory to my family the way the gallant and triumphant Knights of the Golden Age of Heroes would do.  _

_ Like I’ve previously stated my mind is not working properly and I fear my efforts of writing a decent letter will not properly translate to the page. _

_ I find myself conflicted between feeling joy and pride at having beaten the Knight in single combat, and feeling grief and shame upon having brought on the end of my family’s line.  _

_ I am sorry to divulge such ill-news upon you, but like I previously stated, I’ve come to figure you are the only person in the realm aside from my own father whom I actually consider a friend.  _

_ Yours, The Maid of Tarth.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't find anything concrete on Westerosi law regarding inheritence, and even if it does exist and I just couldn't find it, I have decided to paly the 'it's my AU' card with that particular little fact.
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift song: It's nice to have a friend.


End file.
